


We Can Kill Peter Later

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [50]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Fuck Or Die, Humor, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently Peter decided to take matters into his own hands where his nephew and Stiles are concerned, and Stiles is just too damn curious for his own good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can Kill Peter Later

**Author's Note:**

> For the Trope Bingo Prompt: Fuck Or Die. Mildly dubious consent only because of the aphrodisiac used; they both verbally consent. This is incredibly silly. Sometimes I wonder where my angst went.

"Really? Really? How is this my life?" Stiles complains as he's man (or wolf) handled onto the unmade bed in Derek's loft. Derek's pretty much gone except for his overly expressive eyebrows making him look desperate and annoyed at the same time, but Stiles is starting to feel overly warm, too.

He is so killing Peter when this is over.

As Derek starts sucking on his neck like his life depends on tasting his skin, Stiles glares furiously at the innocent looking blue ceramic jar spilling its contents across the table.

"You opened it," Derek growls before his--human thank god--teeth latch on and bite a bruise into his clavicle.

The sensation--or possibly the weird green dust or maybe both--goes straight to his dick, making it strain against his skinny jeans. Oh fuck, why did he think wearing skinny jeans was a good idea?

Oh...good...Derek's unzipping them...

But...but, he has an argument here somewhere. 

Oh, yeah. "Why did Peter send us an aphrodisiac?" Because, that's obviously what the powder is. It smells so good.

Derek smells so good.

Stiles latches onto a really sexy looking earlobe and sucks, which makes the werewolf on top of him grind his hips down and, oh, look, he's hard, too.

And unzipped.

When did that happen?

"Peter's a dick," Derek growls out before literally shredding Stiles' Winter Soldier t-shirt. He'll protest later because now those lips and teeth are all over his chest, making him pant and squirm and clutch at way too broad and covered shoulders. 

"Off, off, off," he moans as he tugs at Derek's henley. It's a dark blue one. Very sexy. 

Rearing up just long enough to yank off his shirt gives Stiles a clear view of the very impressive and leaking bulge in the other man's black boxer briefs and his mouth goes dry.

He kicks off his shoes and wraps his legs around Derek's hips, yanking him back down. "Don't go away again," he mumbles against lips dashing kisses on his own.

"No, can't," Derek manages to get out before he curses and rocks their hips together.

Stiles' hands slide down his muscular, naked back to grab his ass through his loosened jeans. "Still too many clothes!"

In a move that has to be werewolf related, he's flipped and stripped in about ten seconds. Hard cock smashed into the tangled bedding, face planted in the pillow, Stiles squirms and groans and claws at the mattress. He only stills when Derek, finally naked, too, from the feel of it, covers him with his heavy, hot, wonderful body and presses his very impressive dick along the crease of his ass.

His mouth goes dry again.

Somehow there's a bottle of lube, he doesn't know how, he doesn't care how, and then there's a slippery finger prodding at him and, Jesus, so much better than his own finger with the angle and the size and...

He tries to find some spit before he gags on air, and his hips hump up, driving the finger all the way in.

"More, fuck, give me more."

Another finger pushes in, making the rim burn and stretch. He doesn't care. 

"Tell me you want this," Derek grinds out as his fingers twist and spread making Stiles whimper in pleasure and pain and it's such a wonderful sensation he barely hears the question.

"Huh?"

"Not...not against your...will." Derek's panting now, his body slick with sweat as it moves against Stiles', and in an instance of sanity, the younger man realizes he's trying to stop. Yanking his head around he sees the conflict on his face, the concern.

Oh.

"Want you," Stiles babbles honestly, because he does now, he did before. "Not just the dust. Always want you. God, fuck me, Derek!"

Relief floods that usually stoic face and then a third finger presses inside him and Stiles howls and bucks. Cock throbbing and dripping pre-cum, he reaches under himself and grabs the base. He's so close to coming but he wants Derek inside him when he does.

But...wait...maybe he needs to ask a question, too?

"Do you want me, before the dust?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," Derek groans. "Too young, don't care, haven't cared for months. Peter knew. Did this...God, I need to be inside you."

"Yes, yes, yes."

The fingers slip free and two large hands take his hips, lifting him to his knees, before wrapping around his stomach. Craning his head, Stiles watches the emotions cross Derek's face, so unusual, so open, and then the tip of a very large and slick cock pushes into him.

All air driven from his lungs, Stiles' mouth falls open. Fuck...Big...Hurts...Oh, yes, right there...Zing...

Derek chokes on a laugh? A laugh?

Oh, did he say that all out loud?

"Jesus, Stiles..."

And then Derek bottoms out and rocks his hips and presses a hot kiss between his shoulders and hits his prostate again and Stiles comes all over his stomach and the sheets. Gasping and moaning, he presses his forehead to the pillow and shudders and shudders until Derek comes with a grunt and a hard thrust of his hips.

Then he takes them down, still joined, turning them onto their sides and out of the wet spot.

"You don't got a knot, do you?" Stiles asks tiredly, satiated, warm, sticky. The hands around his stomach caress him from chest down to his softening cock and lips brush over his shoulders.

"Don't believe everything you read on the Internet, Stiles," Derek growls, but it's a nice growl, and he's still rocking his hips a bit and that's nice, too.

Oh...he's stroking Stiles' dick. That's really nice.

Wait...

"How long is this going to last?" he moans as he hardens again and the cock in his ass swells.

"We'll kill Peter later...much later..."

"....Okay."

Twisting his head, Stiles meets Derek in a hungry kiss.

They never do get around to killing Peter.

End


End file.
